


Love Hurts

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Good Parent John Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Relationship(s), Sibling Incest, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Summer Love, Summer Vacation, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-12-27 18:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 1995The sky is a nostalgic blue across Newport Arizona, and Sam Winchester can't breathe.~~





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm young I know, but even so. I know I've been a douche; I learned from you. I really learned a lot, really learned a lot. Love is like a flame, it burns you when it's hot."

\- Love Hurts (Nazareth)

1995

  
The summer of 1995 the heat was miserable.

They were driving through a particularly long stretch of Arizona road, and the sun was beating down relentlessly on the black Chevrolet Impala. As she drives down the highway heavy rock music pours from her speakers. The taut silence of the air is filled with the trembling bass of the car; her windows are rolled down, and the rushing wind gingerly caresses Sam's hair. Dean is smiling. Sam notices that first because Dean has an electric smile you can't help but notice. You can tell the older teen is pumped with adrenaline as he air drums his way through the car ride to Newport.

Nevermind the fact Dean almost bled out three states back. 

"I can't believe Sammy took out a werewolf!" Dean exclaims ecstatically; his smile is imperious, while his freckles dance in the afternoon sun. Sam moves away from the excited hoots and hollers of his brother and their father. The back of the Impala smells like fast food and blood. 

John throws a wily smile toward his youngest, reaching out to place a supportive hand onto Sam's Shoulder. Undoubtedly, the man was feeling the high of the hunt that Dean was. Sam would smile too, but he knows that this feeling of euphoria is only temporary. Sooner or later John will do something _stupid__, _and Sam, being Sam, will call him out on it (cause ever since the little dipshit turned twelve two months ago he doesn't know the meaning of _keep it to yourself) _and Dean. Poor Dean. Would be trapped, _mercilessly_, in the middle of a tooth and nail fight between father and son.

The sun is blinding, and Sam is begining to hate the smell of grease, leather cleaner and blood. 

~~~

The house they are "renting" belongs to Miss Lucien Harper; a woman just a few years younger than dad. Miss Lucien is a bit sweet on John, with her wide pair of blue eyes, rich brown curls that fall over her shoulders so elegantly, and a fair blue dress that Sam could mistake for drapes. John lays the charisma on thick, and Mrs. Harper gobbles it up from his hand. The southern drawl his dad is forcing makes Sam cringe inside himself.

"Thanks for helping me with renting, Lucy. I know It's alot to ask of you, but me and my boy's 'preciate it." He gives her the ol' Winchester pearly-whites and she turns to jelly right on the steps of the house. 

Sam rolls his eyes at his father. That's dad for you, charming and bullshiting his way through any situation.

Dean is weary of Lucien, but being the John Winchester in training that he is, the sixteen year old smiles like a thief in the night and bats his dazzling green eyes at the woman.

"Yeah, thank you ma'am it's real nice of you."

"Aw, y'all too sweet!"

The woman looks about ready to go marry John. She presses her lips into a thin line, and glances at both boys.

"How bout' you kid's go inside, and meet my girls, Julianna and Hannah, while me and your daddy talk?"

She licks her lips like a whore. Dean looks at John, and this look that says _"should we?"_ and John simply nods. With approval from their drill sergeant —as Sam had generously started calling his father these past few months— Dean doesn't hesitate to grab Sam, and lead him up the stone steps of Ms. Harper's house. Well, Ms. Harper's other, _other, _house.

"Come on Sammy!"

Sam begrudgingly follows after his brother.

~~

Hannah is a year older than Sam, and Julianna is a few months younger than Dean. Just like her momma, Julianna has well kept dark brown hair swept over her shoulders, a wide set of blue eyes, and a slim, _tight, _figure. Hannah is different; she has chlorine damaged copper hair, and dull brown eyes that are focused on her book. She looks up at Sam once or twice behind her thick rimmed glasses, before becoming too shy and looking away red, flustered.

Dean and Julianna occupy the guest room down the hall. Julianna saying something condescending like, _"The two youngins should stay in their own area of the house." _Of course Dean is a little hesitant to leave his Sammy alone, but ultimately he gives his little brother a longing, _pained_ look. That says, _"Come get me if you need me Sammy I'm serious," _before disappearing down the hall.

Sam and Hannah don't talk. They stay on their sides of their rooms with caution, only exchanging awkward glances at eachother. His surroundings are so, _different_, Sam misses his brother and the familiarity of him. Dean, with his familliar scent of engine oil, leather, and cheap cologne. Sam could run down the hall, and back to his brother's side, but he won't, cause twelve year olds don't run to their brothers. Especially, no Winchester.

So he stews in anxious silence, until Hannah breaks the extremely thick ice.

"What's your name?"

Sam looks at this girl. Modest Hannah. With chlorine damaged hair, and coke bottle glasses, and relaxes. Offering a small, nervous smile, as he says, "Sam."

~~

The neighborhood is all green grass, picket fences, and nosey white collar neighbors. Dean feels out of place here. With his dirty ripped Jeans, and unconventional leather jacket. Julie is nice enough; her soft round chest is a deal sealer though, but Dean already misses hard rock music blaring through radio speakers, and the way his baby purrs on the road.

"Hey Julls. Me, and Sammy should really go sort out the room situation, I'll be seein' you around though, sweets."

Dean would be trying his damn hardest not to see her around.

"Okay, sugar. Make sure you come around soon, I get _restless," _Julie purrs out. Her eyes gorge on Dean as if he were feast laid out to gorge herself on. 

Okay, so maybe Dean _would _be seeing her around. The teen licks his lips, full and pink, as they curl into a charming smile, watching as Julianna curls a strand of her chocolate hair around her fingers. Around, and _around_.

Sam is laughing with Hannah, when Dean shows up in the doorway. His baby brother is smiling so hard his dimples are showing. Dean hasn't seen those dimples in such a long time. A pang of guilt stabs Dean in the heart; Sammy never smiles like that anymore. Dean knocks on the doorframe urgently, and with his Winchester swagger leans against the frame with his arms crossed.

"Heya, Sammy. Let's get goin'" Dean says, watching Sam look at Hannah with a pathetic expression. The boy takes a few seconds to gather himself before getting up. Sam waves apprehensively at Hannah with a shy smile.

"See you around Sam," Hannah calls from behind the boy, adjusting her glasses and still holding a flawless copy of Farenheit 51 in her hands.

"See you, Hannah," Sam whispers.

Dean kicks himself off of the doorframe, and leads Sammy out of the house. Looking over his shoulder at the white picket fence house like a_ protective-older-brother-bodyguard_. Dean wraps his arm around his baby brother's neck and they continue onward. The boy relaxes in the presence of the familiarity that was Dean. Dean. _Dean._

"Hey boys," John greets his kids, nursing a cold one in his hands.

"Hey, Dad. Me and Sam are going to go settle in." John merely nods, watching as the two brothers walk down the street screwing around, as violet and pink fill the sky, and the sun disappears behind the horizon. The street light come on, and John presses his beer bottle to his lips.

~

While the days are hot. The nights were cold. Too cold. Sam is freezing underneath his thin wool blanket. The cool air rushes over him, freezing him all the way to his blood. Dad doesn't have the heat on, which Sam isn't surprised about. The man would rather die than use the heat to warm the place up. Restless, the boy gets up.

Dean isn't doing to much better. He tries to keep his head underneath the covers, but inevitably the teen has to surface for air. When Dean breathes out Sam swears that he can see the teen's breath. Misty, thin, and _visible_. Sam pushes the door open, revealing himself in the dim light. Sam blinks and Dean already has a gun pointed at the door. When he sees it's only Sam, Dean relaxes. "Sammy? What's wrong? You have a bad dream little brother?"

"It's cold."

Sam whispers througg clenched teeth as he crawls into Dean's bed unannounced. "Scoot over a little." Dean presses his lips into a thin line. Sam knows what he's thinking about. Back in Minnesota when John chewed him out for them sleeping in the same goddamn bed. 

"Dad said we're too old—"

"Dad doesn't have to know. It's cold Dean stop hogging the blankets."

While the days are hot. The nights were cold. Too cold.

~

It's Tuesday, July 10th 1995.  
The Arizona sun has barely risen, and it has already begun to warm up.

~

Dean enters the kitchen still wet from his shower.

Sam watches as his brother shakes the empty cereal box. His face is pinched with irritation. "Really Sammy?" Dean sighs, setting down the box on the counter.

Sam looks down at his bowl of Cheerios. He puts his spoon down and pushes the bowl toward his annoyed older brother. Dean raises an eyebrow, watching Sam from the corner of his eye. Sam offers up the half eaten cereal with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, do you want some?" 

Dean takes the offering muttering a gruff "thanks." Sam only nods, and for a second his eyes catch on Dean's body.

Dean is solid. Like. _Really_ solid. Jesus. Sam swallows thickly. He can see the muscles underneath Dean's black shirt, moving underneath the swing of his amulet. Dean was getting his "grown-up" body. Filling out in places that Sam was still lacking in, despite his conditioning and training.

"I Uh... Have summer reading to do," Sam sputters out his mouth feeling dry.

Dean doesn't comment on Sam's hasty retreat.

~

Julianna and Hannah come around a few hours later and gift the Winchesters with a new cherry pie, one in which Dean goes absolutely crazy for.

"You guys rock!" He yells out like an overeager puppy, and Sam thinks it's cute. Julianna giggles behind her hand and flips her hair behind her shoulder. Dean is drooling, and now Sam feels a little disgusted. He has nothing against Julianna; she's pretty and kind, but that uneasy feeling in his gut doesn't go away. 

"Do you guys want a slice?" Sam asks politely, looking between the sisters. They both shrug. Dean looks pained, as if the thought of sharing the pie would absolutely kill him.

"No thank you, Sam," Hannah chimes. "Me and Julianna have to go home and help our mom with stuff."

Dean's grim expression lightens with hope. Sam digs his elbow in his brothers side. _Be nice. _He warns without words, and the older boy yelps. Hannah pushes up her glasses, and offers her friend a warming smile. "See you around?" Sam watches Julianna give her sister a annoyed glance. Obviously she had a different agenda.

"Yeah, see you," Sam replies softly. Julianna is fuming as her sister leads her away from the house. Sam closes and locks the door behind him.

Dean stares at the pie already trying to devour it in a single bite. Sam sighs. "I'll get the knife. "

~~

John makes Sam and Dean check the salt lines, and promise to watch each other backs. Sam is shocked the a paranoid shut-in like John was even letting them outside at all. 

With the door is firmly shut behind them the mid-summer heat greets them like an old lover, and Sam allows himself to talk freely.

"It's the suburbs, what does he think is gonna happen!" Sam exasperates, Hazel eyes looking green in the face of the blazing sun. Dean gives his brother a weary smile.

"Never can be too careful. Especially with the things that go bump in the night, Sam."

Sam's expression hardened. Dean was right, but still the principle of the matter. "Hey, don't be mad Sammy-Sam. We're taking a break from hunting aren't we? Just like you wanted. Let's enjoy it, while it lasts."

Sam wants to yell angry, terrible things at his brother. He wants to tell Dean that it's not enough, that he wants to be a normal family with normal family problems, but Sam resigns into himself, offering nothing, but an uncomfortable chuckle. Dean throws an arm around Sam's neck, realizing just how tall his brother was, Dean gawks.

"Man, you're growing like a weed, did you have another spurt? Aw my lil'Sammy all grown up~"

Sam blushes at Dean's teasing. Dean laughs hard at the noticeable horizontal flush of red across Sam's cheeks.

"Deaaaannn," Sam whines, loud and high pitched, but it sounds like a song against his brother's ear. Dean coos loudly, and Sam himself starts uncontrollably laughing. Summer clouds are floating feathery abovehead, and Sam Winchester actually feels _happy._

_~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at this haha


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had broad shoulders that girls ogled, and rock hard abs. ABS, not "oh-I-think-I-see-the-outline-of-an-ab-right-here" but genuine, solidified, abs. Sam is so jealous, and Sam thinks Dean could sense that.

1995

The day summer takes a turn is July 19th, 1995.

Hannah is in her room with Sam. They exchange sticky smiles, as popsicles melt in their hands. The sun was setting, painting the sky the same red and orange as the inside their mouths.

Hannah is reading a new book, and it's unlike any kind of book Sam has seen her read before. The cover is what catches Sam's attention first. A pair of dirty red Chucks, similar to his own, are tattered and torn. The red Chucks stand proud next to some muddy biker boots on a long stretch of road with LOVE HURTS written angry across the front.

Her expression goes from vengeful to heartbroken, finally she slams the book to the floor in an exasperated fit of emotion. Sam has known Hannah for two weeks and he's never seen her do that to a book before. Interested, the boy smiles at her.

"What are you reading?" Sam questions.

Hannah looks up, alarmed. Like she forgot someone else was in the room.

"It's..." She blushes "Ah. Not for kids."

Sam quirks his eyebrow at the girl, while leaning off the bed. "Really? Cause, Last I checked you're a kid too."

Sam takes the book from her hands gently, and runs his hands down the fairly new exterior of it.

"What's it about?" Sam asks as he turns the book over, finding there is no proper description. Hannah is red. In fact, she is so red she looks like she could potentially explode from just _thinking_ about the book Sam clutched in his hands.

Sam looks down at the cover in awe; _I__t's like a weapon of mass destruction._

"It's romance, about two brother who— _ahem. _It's really raunchy, and I got it as a joke, but it turned out really good, like _really good._" Hannah looks about ready to die now. Sam looks at her calmly (undoubtedly a bit judgey as well). Hannah adjusts her glasses, and stares blankly at her friend. "You could read the first page, and borrow it if you want; I recommend hiding it of you do, cause huh—" Hannah can't look Sam in his eyes "—It gets a bit _intense_...But the writing is the best I swear!" 

Sam is two months into being twelve, he thinks he can handle a little raunchyness. Besides, it's just a _book_. Sam rolls his eyes as flips open to the first page.

~~

The sky is black like spilled ink— or thick oil— against a white canvas. The yellowed light of the moon trickles past the curtains into the empty and cold room. Sam shivers, reaching out to set his flashlight down on the dresser. The child works a crick out of his stiffening neck. It's close to 1 AM, and Sam was only on chapter four. From down the hall, the boy can hear his father snoring. Sam is sure he hears the man stop breathing once or twice —_Seriously_— he needs to get that checked out.

Dean, unlike John, is suspiciously awake. If his shuffling in the other room is anything to go by; which Sam totally thinks is. What ever his brother is doing isn't his business, but the constant shuffling in the other room is making it nearly _impossible _to read. Sam sighs "_ignore it" _he tells himself, reaching back for his flashlight.

Underneath his blanket, the world drifts to black nothingness as he continues to read where he left off.

_— Reid turns to me with a savage _ _smile_ _. "Hey Connie." I hate when he calls me Connie. Connie is gone, alongside all the _ _trust_ _ I had for my brother. I'm Conrad, and only Conrad from now on. I hold my hand out shoving it toward him expectantly. _

_"It's Conrad." I explode, but he doesn't react. "What the fuck Reid! I trusted you." I swallow, suddenly feeling insecure. "Where is the tape?" _

_His eyes sparkle with _ _mischief_ _, as he chews on his stupid toothpick. His tongue is pink and slick, wrapping around the toothpick expertly. My eyes fall to the ground, and I _ _thrust_ _ my hand toward Reid once again; anxiety rising with each passing second. "Tape." I demand. "Now."_

_"Aw, Conrad are you _ _ **mad** _ _ at me?" His smile grows wider. He's enjoying this the sadistic bastard. His pale hand reaches under my chin, forcing me to look into his sea blue eyes. My stomach lurches expectantly. Reid's lips are glistening, full and lush. I hold my breath, and silently pray. "Don't be mad Connie, The tape is safe—"_

_"Bullshit!" I yell, stiffening as his hands _ _travel_ _ up my shirt. Reid _ _chuckles_ _, his breath tickles my ear. "Reid. Dude. Stop." I breathe out, _ _but_ _ he doesn't stop." Reid's nails dig into my delicate flesh; almost guaranteeing a new cresent shaped mark will be there tomorrow—_

Abruptly, Sam's reading is interrupted by someone pulling the blanket from around him. The boy kicks out, and tumbles to the floor, _hard_. The impact almost knocks the air out of him. Who is he kidding? It **did** knock the air out of him. It takes a mintue for Sam's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they do he squints up at the dark mound pinning him to the floor.

"Dean?" Dean smirks stupidly, like he won the lotto, or found a hundred bucks on the ground in a little white envelope. "What are you doing?" Sam whines. "Get off you're fat."

"Dude. I totally took you down. You need to train more, you're rusty." There's a hint of some childishness is Dean's voice.

The teen gets up reluctantly. "And this ain't fat you brat! It's muscle. See." In the vague light, Dean lifts up his shirt and shows off his body. Sam gawks in awe. Dean smirks wildly, and pulls his shirt back down. "Can't say the same for you though _string bean_." The words sting, because they are true. Sam was lean everywhere (besides the baby fat on his cheeks, and just below his navel). He was also growing at an alarming rate. Sam had developed some muscle definition, but he wasn't on the cusp of adulthood, _like Dean_, so his body looked different, almost awkward.

Dean had broad shoulders that girls ogled, and rock hard abs. _ABS, _not "_oh-I-think-I-see-the-outline-of-an-ab-right-here_" but genuine, solidified, _abs_. Sam is so jealous, and Sam thinks Dean could sense that.

"Hey, no need for the pouting Sammy you'll come into your own soon enough."

Both boys sit on the edge of the messy bed together. Dean slips his arm around Sam's neck. "You really need to stop growing, stay little forever." Dean chuckles the sentence out like it's a joke, but Sam can tell his brother is actually serious about it.

"Gotta grow up sooner or later Dean," Sam mumbles awkwardly. Dean gives a sad, tight lipped, attempt of a smile as he entangles his warm hand around Sam's. His hands are rough, calloused and hot against Sam's cold and soft ones. They feel nice. They feel _right._

"I know Sammy," Dean agrees. Sam can only smell motor oil, leather and cheap cologne, as Dean runs a hand through Sam's messy hair. "Believe me, I know." They stay like this for a few more seconds, before Dean pulls away, and maliciously smirks. "Forget the chick flick moment for a minute Sam. I came in here to ask if you wanted to go on a little joyride." Dean flashes the keys to the Impala with vigor. Sam almost swallows his tongue at the sigh of the keys.

"Dean!" Sam scolds. "Dad will _kill_ both of us!"

"Don't be such a _bitch_ Samantha." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Well don't be such a _jerk_ _Dean,_" Sam hisses. Dean gets off the bed the keys jingle a sordid tune. Sam bites his lip, eyes glaring accusatory at his brother. No joyride was worth his life.

"Come on, it'll be fun! Plus, I bet riding around will make you fall asleep, like it always does." Dean jingles the keys again, before adding, "I'll even take the fall if Dad finds out." Sam can't help but roll his eyes.

"That doesn't make it better Dean." Dean sheepishly shrugs, done with negotiations.

"You in or out? Cause I got to go." Sam tries to tell Dean "goodluck" or "may god be with you", but nothing comes out. When Dean gets up to leave the death rattle of the keys in his pocket sound off in Sam's head like a warning siren, and when it comes down to it Sam can't let his older brother walk out of the house into the darkness of god knows where.

"Wait," Sam calls out. Dean haults all movement, his green eyes shine like clean cut emeralds held up to the sun. Sam reaches underneath his bed, and puts on a black unbranded hoodie; perpared for the cool Arizona asummer night air awaiting outside. The youth sighs, seeming a thousand lifetimes older. "I'm coming." Dean smiles, unsurprised.

"See, I knew you'd come around Sammy."

"It's Sam," Sam comments unconsciously as they sneak out the back; Dean stiffens unexpectantly next to him.

"Yeah, of course, _Sam_."

~~

Sam doesn't remember falling asleep; well, to be honest Sam doesn't remember much of anything about last night's cruise around the neighborhood. The boy groans as he gets up. The faint sound of shouting is coming from the kitchen. Sam cracks his neck as he gets up to investigate.

The stairs creak as they shift to accommodate Sam's weight. The arguing grows louder with ever step closer to the kitchen.

"What the hell Dean! You could have been hurt, what were you thinking taking the Impala? At one in the morning!"

Dad is angry. He also looks so much bigger than Dean in the tinted kitchen light. Dean doesn't have his leather jacket on, which makes Dean seem even more vulnerable, afterall that jacket was like his second skin. Sam nevers sees his brother take it off, he lived in that jacket.

"I wasn't thinking sir. It won't happen again," Dean whispers.

Dad let's his anger fade from his face, and all that is left is nothing but exhaustion and pain. John pulls up a chair next to his son, and let's a heartbreaking sigh out. Dean looks at his dad with gut wrenching guilt, then his eyes avert back to his own hands.

"Don't do this to me. Don't get all rebellious, not now. Not when Sam needs you." _When __I__ need you _is left unsaid on his father's lips, but Sam can hear them echoing in his head. Dean's eyes look glassy, as he turns away to wipe at them.

"Okay dad."

Sam waits a few beats until he enters the kitchen with falsified grogginess. Dean lights up as if he hadn't been on the cusp of crying, and Dad just stares.

"Hey you," Dean calls out with a cheeky smile, giving Sam the new box of off brand Cheerios. Sam takes the box from his brother wordlessly, and pours himself a bowl.

"Hey yourself," Sam replies groggily as he retrieves the milk from the fridge.

~

John Winchester liked yelling; Sam was sure of it. He yelled when Sam did something wrong, he yelled when Sam did something right. He yelled when he was sad, he yelled when he was happy, he yelled when he was irritated—

Just like now.

"Sam for the last time, I asked you to do something, so do it!" John shouts from the bottom of the stairs. Threatening to come up stairs and open an entire can of whoop ass on Sam at any moment, but did this deter Sam from clenching his jaw in irritation, and glaring pointedly at the hallway? Not at all.

"No!" Sam screamed back, slamming down his book. "Do it yourself! I'm in the middle of something!" There was a pulse of silence, then a shout of irate fury.

"FINE, stay in your room, don't clean, don't eat, don't do your sets, or reps, I don't give a shit, and until you lose your funk of an attitude don't even _think_ about leaving this house!"

Sam throws himself off his bed, and slams his door closed. The youth yells angrily at the disgustingly _yellow_ wallpaper. He yells until his voice is hoarse, and his throat starts feeling like he swallowed a dozen needles. Sam closes in on himself. He wants Dean. He wants Dean to laugh, to tell him everything is okay, and that he was going to be alright. But his brother is out, hanging with Mindy (or was it Cindy?).

The blue afternoon sky waves apprehensively at Sam through the window, but Sam shuts the blinds, the sky suddenly feeling too blue. The feeling of absolute apathy fills Sam's heart. The boy dramatically flops down, belly first, onto his bed. The low chant of, _Dean, Dean, Dean. _Is like a lullaby in his head.

As expected, Sam falls asleep; His book momentarily forgotten.

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahah still have no idea what is happening... All mistakes will be edited over the course of the next few days


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam watched Dean from the livingroom sofa. A churning in his stomach presents itself as Dean stretches, showing a sliver of his curved stomach and the black lining of his boxers, tight against his skin.

1995

Sam is sure that the book Hannnah lent him is witchcraft. With it's alluring sentence and flowy words. The book is good, almost **too ****good****,** at describing the relationship between the two brothers.

The book being Witchcraft is the easiest excuse Sam has to explain why Dean comes to mind everytime the two brother's relationship is in question. It's always a shameful thing Sam thinks about, in the back of his mind, as he reads about the brothers messing around behind everyone's back. A dirty, bad, wrong secret—_ I wonder if me and Dean...Wow if me and Dean... What if me and..._

Sam has to stop reading the book to save him the guilt and confusion. It's (metaphorically) locked away underneath Sam's bed. Sam tells himself everyday he will give it back to Hannah, wanting no part in whatever the book was doing to him. But like every bad thing, Sam always finds a reason to keep coming back to the book.

* * *

Dean leans back against the counter with a cocky grin as he says, "Don't wait up Sammy," and leaves.

Today he's hanging out (or whatever the FUCK he does) with those shady biker bros that shout crass insults to anyone dumb enough to walk by. They carry around baseball bats covered in barbed wire like it was _cool, _and wear new age, black leather jackets. Nothing like Dean's older faded black to brown leather. Worn out from continued use. Sam is sure half of those off-brand Greaser assholes are all talk and no show, probably sell weed behind the 7'eleven, and don't even know how to shoot a gun or kill a vampire.

It was alarming thinking about Dean trying to blend in with those thugrats. Dirty, and imperfect. Smoking and trying to look tough.

Sam tries, but he can't see his cool, older brother fitting into the array of stereotypical street kids.

Sam takes a moment to close his eyes. Behind the closed lids, Sam sees his brother. The REAL Dean. Not the one that doesn't hang around gangs. But the one that stayed up with Sam, waiting to kill the monster in the closet.  
He can see his older brother's dirty blonde hair, and cocky-smirk. He can smell his brother's overused cologne, and feel his calloused hands.

Sam opens his eyes, face red, and stares at the four bladed fan above him. The fan just lays there, unused and broken. The younger Winchester brother is spread eagle across the floor of the kitchen. With his feet sitting inside the guts of the refrigerator. The cool air of the fridge was the only thing keeping him from boiling alive in the oven of a house. The almost-a-teen is half naked, wearing a muscle t-shirt (that was, of course, too big on him, cause it belonged to Dean), and some shorts that Sam grew out of years ago.

Sam closes his eyes, and this time he sees no Greaser wannabes with barbed wire bats, or dull switch-blades.

* * *

"Sam, what are you doing on the floor?"

Dean kicks his brother in his bony rib, disrupting his sleep. Through blurry vision Sam sees a set of keys in Dean's hands and a bag of food in other. "Help me out with the groceries, bitch," Dean announces, a broad smile reveals hidden dimples. Sam rubs the sleep from his eyes childishly, and looks at the plethora of plastic bags at the foot of the kitchen table.

"Shut up jerk," Sam replies, grabbing a random bag from beside him, and starts to put the contents away. Sam tries to move from the fridge, to grab more things, but his legs feel frozen. They are like jello, and when Sam finally gets up he has to steady himself on the granite countertop. Dean eyes his brother cautiously.

"You okay?" Dean asks noninvasively, as he puts a jug of milk in the fridge.

Sam moves his fringe from his eyes, a pained grunt leaving his lips. The boy eventually nods. The pain subsiding for the most part. Sam uses the back of his wrist to move the rest of the hair obscuring his vision away, he meets Dean's dark green eyes.

The older teen creases his eyebrows in concern. "You sure? Why were you in the fridge anyway?" Dean snorts the last part out, teasing Sam. Sam shrugs, reaching for more bags, but Dean stops him and points at the sofa. Sam doesn't need words to understand the implications.

"It was hot, and I mean... Dad isn't doing anything about it... So." Dean sighs. Sam bites his lip awaiting a snappy comment like— _He tries Sam! It isn't his fault! _Or — _Don't be so hard on him he is the only dad you're going to get. _Suprisingly, Dean doesn't say anything about Dad though. Just motions for Sam to sit down, and leave the unbagging to him. The motion is almost— _Like I'm a dog—_ Sam can't help but think, while he walks to the ugly dis‐colored sofa.

Sam watched Dean from the livingroom sofa. A churning in his stomach presents itself as Dean stretches, showing a sliver of his curved stomach and the black lining of his boxers, tight against his skin. Dean groans stretching further to place something high up on top of the refrigerator. The sound is low from his brother's throat, a sound Sam didn't even know Dean could make.

Sam bites his tongue, _dirty, bad, wrong. _He thinks, discouraging himself as much as possible. But his eyes drink in the Forbidden elixir that was Dean's body. Sam hums watching Dean shuffle rhythmically on the white tile flooring.

It grows quiet, a heart rendering silence only filled by unimportant sounds like the stagnate water in the pipes dripping, and sloshing around with nowhere to go, or the house creaking with the slightest shift in the summer wind.

Sam's face grows hot. Unaware of how long he's been staring at Dean's skin, until Dean calls out, "Hey Sammy!" Over his shoulder, as he puts away the Cheerios. "What do you want to do today? We can hit up the town." Sam isn't really allowed to leave the house, not since he exploded on dad earlier this week, and Dean knows this.

"I'm not allowed to leave the house," Sam says with a pinched face. "You know that Dean." Dean isn't amused though. He rolls his eyes, turning to face his brother fully. Dean has that look on his face that signals trouble, and Sam should run, tell Dean to fuck off, or something but he doesn't.

"So?" Dean challenges, his tongue darts out, pink and shiny, licking his bottom lip. A habit that Dean has picked up recently. It takes everything Sam has not to stare at the display.

The older Winchester throws his hands up in desperation. "Come on Samantha! We're only going to be here for a few more days, let's make the most out of it." Dean looks at his muddy boots before looking up at Sam's face. He takes a step toward the sofa smiling at Sam, like the younger Winchester is hiding something. "Unless you're too chicken shit?"

"I'm not!" Sam snaps. Dean sits down next to his brother.

"Cindy and Julianna invited me to this sort of party. It's tonight. Wanna come?" Sam hesitates. Every fiber in his body is telling him not to accept and go in his room, but Sam smiles all cocky with his chin jutting out and his arms crossed.

"Fine. I'll go."

"All right! Way to go Sammy!" Dean celebrates by messing up Sam's long, girly hair. Sam makes a dissatisfied noise, trying to smooth his hair back to where it was before Dean got handsy.

Dean gets up from the lumpy sofa, and walks to the kitchen unboxing some unmarked popcorn. "Want some?" He calls to Sam over his shoulder. Sam smiles, giddy with the rush that was _life._ Sam nods at his brother. Dean chuckles, For a minute. Sam forgets about this stupid house, and their stupid lives. Instead he focuses on Dean, with his dancing freckles that popped in contrast to his skin when the summer sun hit them, and his green eyes that convinced Sam that green was the only color that mattered.

Sam feels lightheaded thinking about Dean. _What if me and Dean... _He doesn't finish that sentence.

* * *

Sometimes Sam wonders what it would be like if he were dead. It's just a passing thought, with no real consideration. _What if I, Sam Winchester died?_ Sam snorts, Dean would probably cry.

The old bed creaks as Sam rolls from his stomach to his back. A delighted smile creeps onto the pre-teens face, curling softly at the edges. The jerk probably would cry, like _alot_. With lots of snot and tears. Sam looks up at the ceiling, still smiling like an idiot. The ceiling is painted gold from the sunset drifting in through the blinds.

The door opens downstairs and when it closes it shakes the entire house. "SAM DINNER!" It's John. The sound of a sack of burgers hitting the counter is loud enough to make Sam cringe. His insides twist and churn, unpleasantly.

"I'm not hungry!"

~

The bathroom is still warm from Dean's shower when Sam steps in. Dean is making kissy faces at himself in the mirror Sam rolls his eyes, and steps behind his brother with an uncertain smile.

"What should I wear?"

"Dude, you look fine like that." Dean eyes Sam over his shoulder, as he readies his toothbrush with Colgate mint toothpaste. Sam looks at the cloudy bathroom mirror, he maneuvers around Dean and wipes the fog away.

Sam stares at himself. In The mirror there is a boy with an unbuttoned black and blue flannel on with a white undershirt covering his torso. The boy has long brown hair that was still wet from his earlier shower. He has these hazel eyes that pin Sam accusingly from the other side of the glass.

"_I know your SECRET Sam." _

Sam looks away from the mirror, nausea building up in his throat and stomach again. " I... Look like a rat," Sam chuckles to himself.

"You are a rat." Dean throws a warm arm over Sam's shoulders. "But you're my rat!" Dean smells like mint. Sam pulls Dean's meaty arm off of him. Dean's shirt clings to him, wet against his chest. Sam's breathing hitches as Dean moves around Sam. "It's way too hot in here for both of us to be in here at the same time," Dean mumbles, tooth brush in his mouth.

"Yeah," Sam agrees.

* * *

Sam has never been to a party before, and as he takes the final steps up toward the lit up house, he wonders what it will be like. Sam can already hear the low bass of the music from outside the door and taste the alcohol in the air. Dean pulls Sam in close. "You stay right by me okay? I mean it Sammy." Dean is using his "big brother" voice, but it doesn't work on Sam. Sam is too nervous about the entire party thing to actually heed Dean's warnings.

Dean doesn't bother knocking, he walks into the house like he's the life of the party. With a confident grin and a swagger in his walk, Dean makes it to the end of the hall and lights up when he sees Julianna. Sam takes a look around the house. It wasn't crazy. It wasn't loud. It wasn't out of control. It was mundane. Sam feels the slightest bit disappointed that the party wasn't like the one his imagination had cooked up, with drunk, unruly teens running around everywhere.

"Jules!" Julianna stops talking to the blonde girl at her side, and squeals like a child when she sees Dean.

"Dean!" The hug like old friends, and Sam feels awkward bearing witness to it. He feels small, standing in the middle of the kitchen. Julianna looks up, smiling warmly at Sam.

"Hey, Sammy right? Dean's kid brother."

Suddenly, Sam wants to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😳😏 oh my~
> 
> I appreciate all kudos and comments! I'm sorry this chapter took so long it had me in a headlock, I swear. All mistakes are my own, so I'll deal with them on my own time.
> 
> Next chapter is probably gonna be a party chapter with little flecks of angst but who knows, plans change.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not good at this haha...


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